Blackstone Code

Chapter 253:

As he stepped out of the room, the icy air hit the senior agent from the Federal Bureau of Investigation's Sabin branch, causing him to take a sharp breath. The cold air quickly sobered him up, clearing his slightly foggy mind.

He patted his cheeks a few times, wrapped his coat tighter around himself, and after a brief complaint about the weather, headed toward the car parked by the roadside.

The female agent following him had also had a few drinks. Her face was flushed, and the cold air rushing at her helped cool down her overheated cheeks.

"You drive." the male agent said as he got into the passenger seat.

The female agent obediently took the driver's seat, inserted the key into the ignition, and started the car. She was silent, or rather, very focused, but the male agent could sense that she had something on her mind.

As the car slowly pulled out of the residential compound, he finally asked. "Do you think what I did was wrong?"

The female agent didn't say anything, shaking her head as she kept her eyes on the road ahead. But the male agent knew he had guessed right.

"You think we shouldn't be so friendly with Lynch, that we shouldn't drink with him, that we shouldn't have left so...," he hesitated, searching for the right word, "so subserviently, right?"

Though the female agent remained silent, her expression said it all. The male agent sighed, "When I first joined, I was just like you, always believing I'd be a scourge to evil, that I'd catch every criminal, and that nothing could stop me. But do you know how I think now?"

The male agent looked out at the sky through the window and sighed deeply. "Only by staying alive and keeping our jobs do we have any chance of delivering justice.

"You think Lynch is just an ordinary businessman, but he's not. He's very close to Mark, has great relations with the mayor, and he's reportedly been invited to the President's inauguration celebration.

"And the most crucial thing is, he's rich. Do you understand the power of money?"

As the traffic light outside started to blink, the female agent bit her lip, still shaking her head.

The male agent scoffed lightly. "You know, but you don't want to face it."

"He could easily get us fired. For people like us, in jobs like this, losing our identity would be a disaster. Soon, you'll see an example of how some things mean nothing to certain people… What I'm doing is not just protecting myself."

Meanwhile, the backup police officers, who had confirmed the false alarm, started returning to their posts. However, the officers en route to search Vera's house were instructed to return straight to the station, as the task would be reassigned to others.

This sort of thing didn't happen often, but it was possible. After all, in this whole situation, the police were merely assisting the agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation with the search—they weren't the main force.

When the female officer who had humiliated Vera had just stepped out of her car, the assistant to the precinct chief appeared before her, informing her that the chief wanted to see her.

In the Federation, the police force was composed of a central police department and numerous precincts. The central department typically handled administrative work rather than day-to-day police duties.

The precincts were the frontline stations, responsible for most police work.

Each precinct had a chief who oversaw daily operations, so regular officers saw the chief every day, though it was only the chief of the precinct.

The female officer straightened her appearance outside the chief's office, even sucking in her stomach to avoid looking "bloated."

Recently, there was a societal criticism that the police force lacked combat effectiveness because they were too fat and lazy—a backlash against the police's disappointing performance during a major strike, a venting of public frustration.

But for the officers, this had become a troubling issue.

After knocking on the door and getting permission, the female officer entered the office.

The precinct chief glanced at her, put down the work in his hands, but didn't speak immediately. He stared at her for a moment, then in a calm, emotionless tone said, "Someone has complained that you were rude and unreasonable while on duty. Also, a fast food restaurant has reported that you demand an extra sugared orange juice and an extra beef patty whenever you buy a meal there. Is this true?"

As the chief finished speaking, the female officer's face showed disbelief. Rude and unreasonable while on duty… If that were the standard, then all officers in the federal police system would fall short of the chief's expectations.

After all, they were dealing with people who might be criminals or were criminals. It wasn't possible to treat these people like hotel guests, flashing a standard smile, and politely asking, "Did you commit a crime, sir?" or "Would you like to surrender and accept our processing, sir?" They had to use force to intimidate these people.

So, most complaints about police conduct didn't trouble the officers. At most, they'd be asked to write a report explaining the situation to brush things off in front of the media.

As for the fast food restaurant, what the chief said was true, but she hadn't demanded those extras. She'd just hoped that, since she always bought a meal for two by herself, they might throw in something extra.

Wasn't that normal? Even ordinary people would make such a request.

The sugared orange juice and extra beef patty were given voluntarily by the restaurant, not something she forced, and as far as she knew, most officers who bought fast food there got an extra juice or coffee.

The female officer was about to argue, but the chief waved his hand, not giving her a chance to speak. "Enough, from your expression I can see that these things are true. Hand over your badge and gun. The disciplinary department will investigate this matter. If there's no issue, you'll come back, but if there is…," the chief paused slightly, "I hope you'll voluntarily come forward."

The female officer still wanted to defend herself, but the chief didn't give her the chance. "Badge, gun, and make sure to close the door on your way out."

Filled with unvented anger and frustration, the female officer slammed her badge and gun onto the chief's desk, then left, slamming the door behind her.

The chief watched the door still shaking slightly and sighed.

In truth, there had been no complaint; it was just an excuse. The fast-food workers wouldn't be foolish enough to report a police officer over a cheap orange juice and beef patty.

What truly forced his hand was a phone call from the regional police chief, telling him that she had offended someone and it would be best for her to step away from her duties for a while and let things cool down.

The female officer returned home in a sour mood and isolated herself in her room for two days. Despite her husband and child asking if something was wrong, she chose not to say anything.

She didn't want her problems to affect her family's life or make them worry.

The next afternoon, she suddenly received a call from her child's school, asking her to come in.

Her husband, a regular worker, couldn't take time off from his job, as work was hard to find these days, so she went alone.

She'd been to her child's school before, and people usually showed fear and deference when they saw her in uniform. But this time, she was in plain clothes.

As soon as she entered the principal's office, she saw her son, a cute boy in his early teens, with tears streaming down his face. His expression wavered between stubbornness and the aggrieved look, and he even began to cry loudly upon seeing his mother.

The female officer awkwardly sat in a chair that was too small for her, struggling to fit her large frame into it.

"… Ma'am, your son has been stealing from others at school-"

Before the principal could finish, the officer's son shouted, "That's not true. I didn't do it."

The principal looked at them coldly, then continued, "I'm not going to call the police, but I hope you'll take your child home and explain things to him. When I feel it's appropriate, he can return."

The female officer, dazed, walked her mischievous but usually well-behaved son home.

As a police officer, she had instilled in her son a strong sense of right and wrong. She knew he wouldn't do such a thing, but his classmates, teachers, and the principal all said he did. She didn't know whom to believe.

When they arrived home in silence, she was surprised to see her husband's shoes by the door. It was far from the end of the workday; he should have still been at work.

She walked into the living room and immediately saw her husband slumped on the couch, holding a bottle of liquor, already in a drunken state.

Seeing his wife, the man suddenly burst into tears, wiping his eyes as he cried, "They fired me. I've worked for them for nearly ten years, but they fired me without any reason…"

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